


Shaking to Pieces

by Quillicous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillicous/pseuds/Quillicous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is dead and Dean doesn't know what to do with the world anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shaking to Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> End!verse AU--Sam died in the process of getting rid of Lucifer, but Cas and Dean survived.

It feels desperate and angry and purple, like a bruise, or a slow poison dissolving through your  veins, coupled with a burning panic dragging itself up from your chest to your throat, and you need to lash out. You need the world to stop _right fucking now_ and return to its normal alignment where Sammy is alive and next to you, but it doesn’t. The panic stays and twitches, and Cas keeps talking and Sam isn’t cutting in with a remark and if this keeps going you are going to throw him into a _wall,_ just to get him off you, away, _out_.

Harsh words spill out before you can stop them, because you can’t fucking deal with wanting to beat someone, you can’t deal with wanting to punch someone until they bleed, until they shut up, until you don’t feel quite so much like you’re strangling to death. You can’t let yourself think like that because you’re _righteous_ and there’s no reason to hurt Cas just for existing when Sammy doesn’t and you _aren’t going to torture anyone else when there’s no reason to anymore_.

You just need Cas out and away before he makes the urge worse, before you snap and you actually hurt him. You yell at him, you drive him away with words spoken too quick and transparently desperate to your ears, because you will _not_ strike him and you aren’t thinking straight enough to send him away calmly.

Life doesn’t mean anything if you hurt people just to be fucking sadistic, _that’s what you live by_. (Life doesn’t mean anything without Sammy either _but you’re not thinking about that._ ) Your life means something because you’re _not_  a sadist and a monster like Alistair, like you know you want to be—you’re _good_.

(And isn’t that fucking ironic, that the one lie about yourself that you cling to so that you don’t give up and kill yourself is also the lie that is preventing you from letting this poison out with violence?)

Cas moves away with a look on his face that says he thinks you’re being unnecessarily cruel and leaves you be and you can’t deal with that either (because you’re not irrational, you’re _not_ , you feel like your chest is burning away acidic and ugly and it’s not wrong that you’re feeling like that-- _is it?_ \--but you can’t explain that to him in words he will understand).

You drown the memory of the look in the poison and shake into pieces on the ground. Cas is gone, Cas is gone, but _the panic isn’t leaving_ , still yawning in your chest and cracking against your ribs like a baby dragon hot and evil. You still need to destroy something and feel it crumble under your fingers, break and shatter the way you feel like you are shattering, a physical representation of the control you need back.

There is nothing here to break but yourself.


End file.
